


A Cat In The Dark

by DRHPaints



Series: Clark and Rhiannon [10]
Category: Bill Hader - Fandom, Doc Now - Fandom, Documentary Now - Fandom, Documentary Now! (TV 2015)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Love, Married Couple, Married Life, Married Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Restraints, Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27488704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DRHPaints/pseuds/DRHPaints
Summary: Rhiannon finally decides to quit her cleaning job and after polishing her collection of short stories, Clark offers to find her an agent and publisher. As one way of thanking him for his help, Rhiannon asks Clark to tie her to the bed.
Relationships: Clark Honus/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Clark and Rhiannon [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954567
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	A Cat In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unlikelybeardsublime1212](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unlikelybeardsublime1212/gifts).



> Again, the title is from a lyric in the song 'Rhiannon' by Fleetwood Mac. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with these two!

Fingers flying over the keyboard, Rhiannon ascended into that magical, effervescent headspace in which there was no time, no reality to intrude upon her writing. There was nothing but the characters, the story, as her soul leaked effortlessly onto page after page and a crimson tendril dangled while her face darted from side to side over the screen of her laptop. Effectively absorbed, Rhiannon didn’t hear Clark’s soft footsteps padding into the kitchen, didn’t hear him open the fridge to crack open a container of pineapple and pop a piece of the acidic fruit into his mouth, and she didn’t hear him approach until Clark glanced at the time on the microwave with a sound of surprise.

“Rhi, what’re you doing here?”

“Writing.” Rhiannon muttered, not looking up, determined to get her protagonist to the next scene before the muse flitted away with a wink and a taunting giggle.

“But…” Furrowing his prominent eyebrows, Clark tilted his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work right now?”

Slapping her palms on the table, Rhiannon inhaled sharply, startled from her creative reverie. “Oh shit!” Rhiannon pushed back her chair, rushing up the beige staircase, hand nearly slipping on the silver railing in her hurry as she frantically made it upstairs, jumping into a pair of leggings and wiggling into a sports bra. Pulling on a tank top as she ran back down, Rhiannon hastily grabbed her cleaning supplies from the closet. “Thanks, Clark! Be back later!” 

Clark jogged to open the front door for her, swooping in to capture Rhiannon’s speeding cheek for a kiss. “Okay, be safe, baby. Love you.”

“Love you, too!” 

Thankfully The Caldwell’s were understanding and their home wasn’t in hazardous disarray, but as the hours ticked on, Rhiannon’s mind, and her heart, were back at home with her story, sorrowed at the idea that she might be unable to recapture the seductive mistress of inspiration once she returned to the glow of her computer. As she attacked a particularly stubborn grease stain, Rhiannon warred within herself, and by the time she drove home, sweaty and sore, she came to a decision.

As per usual, once Rhiannon opened the door, Clark’s linen-laden figure rose from the couch to relieve Rhiannon of her burden, taking her mop and tools to the closet before his large hand went to her waist. “Hey, baby.” Kissing her forehead, he gave her ass an admiring pat. “How was it today?”

“Oh...pretty good, you know…” Rhiannon nodded, green eyes shifting as she retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge, downing half before she strolled over to join Clark on the cream cushion. “So, um…” Clearing her throat, Rhiannon tucked her ankles under herself and studied Clark as he flipped through the channels, cobalt eyes narrowed and pink lips pursed, rejecting show after show in search of something suitable.

_ Please don’t say I told you so.  _ “So Clark, I...I’ve been thinking…” Rhiannon began, biting her lip. “And, um…” Hesitating, Clark turned to her, blinking and lowering his arm. “I...I think I’m going to quit. Cleaning, I mean.”

Silence. Rhiannon waited. Waited for the giggle. For the smirk to blossom on his wide, self-satisfied mouth. For his dark eyebrow to creep up knowingly and for Clark to cross his powerful arms and declare victory.

But Clark, face indiscriminate, merely nodded his head slowly. “You’re sure that’s what you wanna do, baby?”

“Yeah, I, um…” Lifting a shoulder, Rhiannon rubbed her elbow with the opposite hand. “I feel like I need to focus on my writing, so…”

Clark beamed, lengthy fingers coming up to cup Rhiannon’s cheek. “That’s great. I’m glad, Rhi.” Slipping around the back of her neck to draw her into his soft lips, Clark’s mouth touched hers, his tongue inching inside briefly to weave a silent song of pride and understanding before they parted. Clark tucked Rhiannon’s work-weary body into the nook of his firm chest and planted a kiss to the top of her scarlet hair as he continued his hunt on the television.

After giving notice, Rhiannon was surprised by how much one additional day gave her time to compose her work. Often typing while Clark was off brokering business deals or holed up in his office, his oceanic eyes bedecked in reading glasses and perusing contracts, within a couple of months Rhiannon polished her collection to perfection. As with most authors, Rhiannon had to force herself to stop editing at some arbitrarily defined point, and after doing so, Rhiannon printed out the first hard copy, clutching it to her chest and timidly approaching Clark where he picked over a chickpea and noodle salad at the kitchen table one afternoon.

“Hey Clark?”

Sharp jaw rolling as he chewed, Clark’s head popped up with a smile. “Yeah, baby?”

“So…” Extending the sheaf of papers, Rhiannon tilted her head. “It’s finished. Will you…?”

Wiping his big hands together, Clark’s broad shoulders did an excited shimmy and he broke into a crooked, goofy grin. “Yeah, of course, Rhi.” Eyeing the stack with anticipation, Clark accepted and set it before himself on the table. “I’ll start reading right now. You want me to write on here or no?”

Tapping the top page, Clark ticked up an eyebrow and Rhiannon smiled. “Sure.” As Clark rose to retrieve a pen and his glasses, she chuckled internally. Anytime Clark read her work, he kindly took the time to give her notes. But, not the most bookish man in the world, they were often restricted to tiny blurbs of praise.  _ ‘Nice job,’ ‘Funny,’ ‘Real good,’ ‘Love this _ ,’ and other sentiments along those lines sprinkled the text once Clark was through, and though they didn’t assist Rhiannon in the editing process, she adored him for his efforts.

Rhiannon discovered, however, that if she discussed writing with Clark verbally, he could be incandescently insightful. In one such instance, Clark was praising her for a recent horror tale, talking about how he loved that the creature of dread didn’t take a solid form until the end of the story.

“So the monster was Soren himself, right? Like life? How you don’t see all your mistakes very clearly and all that shit is just building up right behind you, and then when he has to face it at the end and it’s clear, that’s...a…” Clark snapped his fingers, folding his lips under and knitting his dark eyebrows together in concentration. “Well, I don’t know the word, but you probably do. You were comparing it to when you have to face your own death, right?”

Rhiannon blinked at him dumbfounded. Of course, Clark was describing an allegory, but, in truth, when Rhiannon penned the frightful feature there were no intentions behind her words other than the idea bubbled in her brain and she needed to expel it before it singed her, and the idea of writing something scary sounded fun. So for Clark to unearth a hidden meaning, imparted by Rhiannon’s soul without her knowledge, left her considerably impressed.

Settling into his chair, Clark pushed his thin-wired glasses up his nose and flipped over the title page. After about a minute his sapphire eyes slowly rose to find Rhiannon’s expectant face still perched across from him at the table, hands folded in front of her and biting her lip.

“Rhi.” Clark giggled, shaking his head and holding his wide palms aloft. “You can’t just sit there and  _ watch _ me, babygirl. You know that shit drives me crazy. Go on.” Flicking his wrist to shoo her away, Clark chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll pause for dinner and let you know what I think.”

Nodding in assent, Rhiannon snapped up a book and ascended the stairs to the bedroom, doing her best to stay occupied and not allow herself to ruminate over Clark’s perception of her work.

As Clark read, he marveled at Rhiannon’s agile, multifaceted mind, not for the first time. Initially when she shared her writing with him, Clark was skeptical. Not the learned type, he truly put in the time simply because he was falling for Rhiannon and wanted to win her over. Clark had zero interest in the content or literature in general. Hell, he hadn’t read anything thicker than the newspaper since high school. But when Rhiannon entrusted him with that original story, the thing sprouted legs, scuttling up Clark’s spine and sinking fangs into his brain until no matter how fitfully he thrashed, Clark couldn’t rid himself of the compelling narrative and provocative characters.

Set on a sleepy rural farm, Rhiannon spun the saga of a Hannah, a young woman living under the thumb of her father, an uptight religious patriarch whose narrowmindedness and drunken tirades were brutal to the point of torture. Yet Hannah continued to love her father dearly, and Clark found himself engrossed as he followed her struggle to break out and experiment with all the joys, the so-called sins, the world had to offer, while her desire to be the prodigal daughter continued to rage within. 

By the end, Clark couldn’t fathom why he was fucking crying over someone who was merely ink on paper. It didn’t make sense. Hannah wasn’t real. None of the shit she endured actually happened. But that didn’t change the fact that Clark ached for her, that somehow Rhiannon, using twenty-six letters in a plethora of combinations, summoned a siren that called to Clark’s heart and he dove into the sea of fictional empathy.

After that, Clark praised Rhiannon for her talents, and devoured any and everything she placed before him, but a niggling worry tickled his mind. With each installment, Clark was reminded of Rhiannon’s brilliance. And it brought about a tense, acrid worry in the cavern of his gut. Clark grew concerned that maybe, if Rhiannon caught on that he wasn’t the smartest guy, she would realize she was out of his league and evaporate from his life.

Clark knew he had an aptitude for business. Negotiations, contracts, straight up arguing some asshole into a corner, no problem. For whatever reason, Clark could waltz into a scenario involving money and he instantly visualized every aspect, every angle, as though he were some sort of fiscal prism through which any deal filtered, only to spout a shimmering rainbow of fortune on the opposite side.

But sometimes people would mention things Clark couldn’t grasp, the conversation drifting to history, or an author he never heard of, and Clark would grow quiet, shifting his dark blue eyes away and gritting his teeth in hopes that talk would eventually turn back to a subject in which he was more comfortable.

As their time together progressed, Clark’s fears about Rhiannon were soothed by her patient and understanding nature. In the past if someone mentioned one of the classics and Clark made the mistake of confessing he never heard of it, their mouths would drop and they would stare, aghast. “How have you not heard of  _ ‘such and such _ ’ book? Everyone knows about that!” and a searing shame would prickle over Clark’s sharp cheekbones until he learned to nod and smile noncommittally, the person assuming he knew what they were talking about.

Clark tried that technique with Rhiannon one day when they were lounging by the pool, drying off in the baking sun after a refreshing dip.

“Mmm...you know, ever since moving to California, I still get that feeling inside…” Rhiannon gestured to her chest. “The way Steinbeck described it in so many of his novels. Just so incredibly gorgeous. Lush, you know?” Humming in response, Clark kept his eyes closed against the glare as he shuffled down and crossed his ankles. After a beat, Rhiannon turned to him. “What’s your favorite book of his?”

“Oh, um…” Clearing his throat, Clark adjusted himself. “I guess...I guess I just like them all.”

Rhiannon nodded, smiling. “Me too. I can’t stop re-reading  _ East of Eden _ though. I think I go through it at least once a year. It’s just such a deft, heartbreaking retelling of the Genesis story, don’t you think?”

Swallowing, Clark clenched his teeth and the muscle in his sharp jaw popped. “Mmhmm…”

Sighing contentedly, Rhiannon combed her fingers through her drying crimson tresses. “Who’s your favorite character?”

Clark looked at her in alarm, mouth hanging open. “Oh, I…” Sighing, Clark closed his eyes. “Fuck. Rhi, I’m sorry, I...I don’t...I don’t know who that guy is and I haven’t read that book…” Cutting his eyes away, Clark’s nose flared and he prepared himself for the typical reaction when he heard Rhiannon gasp.

“Oh, Clark you’re so lucky!”

Clark pulled his head back, dark brows furrowed and blinking. “What?”

Rhiannon waved a hand. “Oh, I just mean I’m excited for you. Because if you wanted to, you get to read it for the first time. And I remember what that felt like…” A radiant smile bloomed on her face and Rhiannon clutched her hands to her chest. “If I could delete it from my brain somehow and get that feeling back, I would because it’s wonderful. But…” Shrugging, she rested back on her chair. “No pressure. If it’s not your thing, don’t worry about it.”

A slow grin crept over Clark’s pink lips as he watched Rhiannon relaxing. After that Clark said what the hell and asked Rhiannon for her copy of Steinbeck’s masterwork.

Four pages in and Clark was lagging. Why the hell did this guy have to describe things with such excruciating detail? At first he was hesitant to admit defeat to Rhiannon but, based on her previous kindness, Clark laid the tome on the table at lunch and shook his head. “Sorry, Rhi, I just…” Stretching out his bottom lip, Clark exposes his rounded, slightly crooked teeth. “I just don’t think I can make it through this thing.”

“Aw, that’s okay.” Rhiannon raised a shoulder before biting into her banana. “No problem, but…” Chewing as Clark sat down, she tilted her head. “I could read it to you. Only if you’re interested in the story. If not, no big deal.”

“Yeah?” Clark’s eyebrow ticked up and Rhiannon nodded.

And that’s how, for at least a few hours each week, Clark found his tall frame nestled between Rhiannon’s legs, broad back to her stomach and head lulled by the gentle rise and fall of her breasts as her fingers tickled through his salt and pepper hair, Rhiannon’s sultry voice leading Clark from Thoreau and Ellison to Angelou and King, soon discovering himself rapacious for fresh meat and picking up novels to tuck under his arm whenever he went out of town on business.

Working his way through her newest offering as he snacked, Clark enjoyed the fact that Rhiannon incorporated a smattering of genres into her collection. A fast-paced psychological thriller, a devastatingly tragic character study, a winding and alarming mystery, and even, Clark smirked, a romance with a steamy scene that made his cock twitch against his leg as he twisted in his chair. Anytime Rhiannon wrote something sexy Clark waged a battle within himself. His brain wanted to be respectful enough to continue reading, but his body yearned to swat the pages aside and seek Rhiannon out wherever she might be hiding, ravaging her until they were both too exhausted to think.

But, pressing on, Clark continued until he set the half finished stack on the counter and found Rhiannon upstairs, the two of them heating up a vegetable lasagna left behind by the chef while Clark went over his views thus far.

“And that one with the demon? Damn, Rhi…” Shaking his head as he wrapped his wide mouth around a gargantuan bite, Clark swallowed before he elaborated. “Fuckin’ scary. Good thing I won’t be sleeping alone tonight.”

Rhiannon laughed. “Glad it had the desired effect.”

“Speaking of ‘desired effects’...” Clark made his expressive eyebrows dance, smirking.

“That, um...that ‘Veil of Lace’ one. Pretty spicy stuff there.”

“Well, you know what they say…” Nudging him under the table with her foot, Rhiannon smiled and gave Clark a little shimmy. “Write what you know.”

Giggling, Clark returned to his meal and after they finished, flipped the dishwasher on, adjusting his reading glasses as he attacked the last handful of short stories. Turning the final page with a grin, Clark ascended the staircase and chuckled to himself when he turned the corner to their bedroom and spotted Rhiannon, face smushed over her book and drooling an oblong wet spot onto the page, hands twitching above the sheets.

Clark carefully slipped a large palm under her slumbering head, setting her book on the bedside stand before disrobing and crawling in next to her. Flicking off the lamp, Clark covered Rhiannon in the sheet before scooting near, Rhiannon unconsciously seeking his warmth about an hour later and snuggling into the long line of Clark’s firm, supple body.

Disoriented by the dim light and mind foggy as though she’d slept for either ten minutes or ten hours, Rhiannon groped blindly for her phone on the bedside stand and saw it was just after four a.m. Clark’s slow, even breathing uninterrupted beside her, she crept downstairs with a yawn, snagging an apple and brewing a cup of tea before taking the copy of her story collection outside to review Clark’s notes amidst the sunrise.

Rhiannon admired Clark’s tidy scrawl and each time a  _ ‘Funny _ ” or a  _ ‘Good job _ ’ peeped up at her from the paper, she grinned. Coming near the end, sky awash in a flurry of hot pink with a moody line of purple edging the horizon, the glass doors sliding open behind her startled Rhiannon when a naked Clark emerged for his daily swim.

“Morning, baby.” Bending down, Clark’s large hand cupped her cheek and planted a kiss to the top of her head. “You must’ve been up early.”

Rhiannon nodded. “Yeah, well, I think I passed out at like nine or something last night. Thank you for this.” Holding the sheaf of papers aloft, she smiled. “I really appreciate you taking the time to read it.”

“No problem.” Perching his nude form on the lounge chair beside her, Clark took her hand. “Rhiannon...they’re amazing. Seriously, baby. Your best work. I loved them.” 

Clark beamed at her and Rhiannon brought a hand to her chest. “You really think so?”

“No question.” Tilting his head, Clark gave her fingers a squeeze. “Now…” Looking down at their joined hands, Clark swallowed. “You’re sure you won’t let me help you? Find you a publisher, an agent, something? Because, Rhi…” Oceanic eyes rising, the corner of Clark’s pink lips ticked up. “I really think you have something here and people are gonna want to read them.”

Hesitating, Rhiannon swung her legs off the chair toward him. “Clark...you’re...you’re sure you’re not just saying that because...you know, you…” Rolling her eyes with a smile, she tipped her head from side to side. “Love me and all?”

Clark giggled, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “No, Rhi. I mean, yeah, obviously I love you.” Reaching over to pinch her hip, Clark smirked. “But...this…” Tapping the stack of papers, Clark’s mouth settled into a flat line. “Is damn good. No matter what. And you should get it out there.”

Rhiannon remained silent for a moment, chewing on her lip. “Okay...I...I guess, if you really think so…” 

Taking her face in both hands, Clark caught her lips for a brief kiss and tucked an errant auburn tendril behind Rhiannon’s ear. “That’s great, baby. I’ll make some calls later today.”

Clark started to stand when Rhiannon took his wrist. “Wait, um...Clark?” He lifted a dark eyebrow and she cleared her throat. “I...I’m sorry to ask this because you’re going to so much trouble and...I don’t want you to think it’s because I’m not proud of...well, but…” Swallowing, she cast her emerald eyes away from him. “Would you...would you be offended if I published under my maiden name, MacAuley? Like I said it’s not that I’m not proud to be your wife because, Clark…” Running her fingers through his silver-etched hair, Rhiannon leaned forward. “I am. Really. I just...You know, if it says ‘Rhiannon Honus’ on the cover, then I don’t know if--”

“If people are buying the book because they like your writing or because you’re the wife of a rockstar?” Clark supplied with an understanding smile.

Shrugging sheepishly, Rhiannon nodded. “Yeah...I’m sorry. Is that okay?”

“Of course, Rhi.” Swooping in for a kiss before rising, Clark patted her shoulder. “I get it. I’m just glad you’re going to let me help you out. Email me a copy, okay? I’ll get on the horn after I’m done.” Clark gestured toward the pool and Rhiannon thanked him, spending a few minutes watching as Clark dove in, his tall, pallid form slicing through the water expertly before she returned inside for a shower.

Starting with his agent Tony, when Clark mentioned he had a new project, the man became excited to the point of stammering. When Clark clarified that it was not, in fact, a new musical endeavor for himself but a book written by his wife, Tony deflated immediately. It took some finagling. After all, no one had reason to believe Clark knew anything about what made a good book, and the fact that Rhiannon wanted the Honus name off made for a tough sell, but Clark browbeat far more difficult concepts into the hands of reluctant businessmen before. Hell, he got the BJC action figures on the shelves, didn’t he? So, after at least a dozen phone calls and twice as many emails, Clark possessed a list of publishers, agents, and their requirements for submissions.

Cracking his neck, Clark sifted through Rhiannon’s work with lips pursed and brow furrowed. Clark may never have written a creative word in his life, but he had an innate ability to discern what would sell, what made the general public pry open their wallets and plunk down hard earned cash. And so Clark began the arduous process of copying, pasting, and formatting each individual document on Rhiannon’s behalf.

When one p.m. rolled by and Clark didn’t emerge from his office, Rhiannon peered upstairs in concern. As a rule she never interrupted him while he was working. Like herself, Clark zeroed into a hyperfocused mode and Rhiannon knew how irritating it was to be startled out of that flow. 

But at three Rhiannon was worried about him and, carrying a tray laden with a bottle of water, green tea, leftover salmon, Clark’s favorite pasta salad, and fresh berries, she balanced it on her hip and timidly knocked on the door.

“Come in.” 

Hunched over the computer, lower pink lip trapped in his rounded teeth and bespectacled 

eyes darting over the screen, Clark didn’t turn as Rhiannon entered. “Hey...sorry to bother you, but I brought you this. Thought you might be hungry.”

“Hmm.” Distracted, Clark nodded. “Thank you, babe. Just…” Waving an arm vaguely in the direction of the side table, Clark moved his chair closer to the keyboard. “Put it over there.”

Rhiannon quietly set down the tray and slipped out of the room. Not only was she grateful for Clark assisting her by using his connections, but for Rhiannon the idea of trying to navigate all of the ins and outs of the publishing process was daunting.

Clark, however, despite his age, was extremely proficient when it came to technology. Ever since she and Clark started dating, her friends often poked fun at their generational gap. Calling him a Boomer, cracking the inevitable Viagra jokes (which Clark didn’t need, and even if he did, Rhiannon wouldn’t care) and assuming that he would be hopeless when it came to operating any electronic device.

But Clark was more savvy than Rhiannon half the time, his work requiring him to be up to date on many apps she didn’t have the faintest inkling about. Though on the rare occasions when Clark waded into the slang of the younger generation, Rhiannon teased him mercilessly. She couldn’t help it. Something about his handsome face and heavy Chicagoan accent trying to be casual when she stepped out of their closet and Clark deemed her a ‘real thirst trap’ caused Rhiannon to cackle at him until she couldn’t breathe.

Eyes dry, Clark didn’t realize he was hungry until he turned off the computer and shoveled the first few bites of the neglected food into his mouth. Emails sent and calls made, there was nothing left to do but wait. 

Clark didn’t tell Rhiannon about the first response. It wasn’t a rejection, but the agent wanted nineteen damn percent, and Clark was positive he could do better. He worried in her jubilation over being accepted, Rhiannon would settle for less than she was worth. An underused tool in negotiations, in Clark’s opinion, was silence. People couldn’t handle it. You get quiet, smile, stare them down, and they’ll crumple like tissue paper, backtracking until they give you everything you want, simply for the sake of filling the void. So often, whether in phone or in person, if an offer was presented and Clark was displeased, he simply held. And to this day, no one was able to get Clark to break first.

A little over a week later, Rhiannon sprawled on the couch and halfway through a mindless comedy, Clark’s smiling face appeared over her head. “Hey babe, you got a minute?”

“Of course.” Straightening up, she shifted aside and Clark joined her on the cushions, paper in hand. Clark flicked off the TV and presented it to her. “Alright, so...here you go. These top three here…” Long finger dragging down the page, Clark grinned. “Are all agents who want to rep you. I vetted them. Solid. But this one in particular.” Clark tapped the top name. “She seems really good. And she works with a couple of authors you really like, so I think you’d get along. Now…” Moving down, Clark indicated a half dozen names. “These are all the publishers who are on board. This one said they’d give the biggest advance, but this one…” Clark touched the last name on the page. “Said that even though what you get would be mostly based on sales, they want to see a novel if you have it, so I was thinking about that one you were working on a while back. There’s notes and stuff so…” Shrugging his broad shoulders, Clark brushed back her scarlet hair. “Whatever you decide, baby.”

Rhiannon stared down at the paper, gears of her brain trying and failing to whir into action as her mouth hung open. “Clark, I…” Swallowing, she shook her head. “I don’t believe this.”

“Well, you should.” Clark’s strong arm encircled her, drawing her in and kissing her temple. “I told you. You’re brilliant, Rhi.”

Throat tight, Rhiannon took Clark’s face in both hands, capturing his mouth with stinging eyes and quivering lips. “Thank you, Clark, this is…” Blinking rapidly, she gazed down at the page in awe. “This is everything I wanted. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” Hooking around her knees, Clark scooped Rhiannon into his lap, sighing contentedly as he held her close. “You deserve it.”

A couple of joyous tears trickled over Rhiannon’s cheeks as she relaxed into the warmth of Clark’s caring embrace. After pondering the list for a while, she made contact with one of the agents, discussing the various publishers and options and when she got off the phone Rhiannon was high on prospective exhilaration as she came downstairs and spotted Clark on the couch, munching ginger cookies and clicking through the channels.

Gratitude for her devoted husband overwhelming, an idea formed in Rhiannon’s head and she smiled. “Hey Clark?”

“Hmm?” Half turning, Clark’s eyes remained on the television.

“I know I’ve been asking a lot of you lately, but...could you do one more thing for me? Maybe?”

Apparently deciding on a rerun of  _ Forensic Files,  _ Clark nodded while continuing to face the screen. “Of course, Rhi. What’s up?”

“You wanna take me upstairs and tie me to the bed?”

As Clark’s head slowly turned, his chewing mouth spread into a wicked smile. “Oh hell yeah.” Flipping off the TV his dark eyebrows danced as Clark sprang off the couch, chasing a squealing Rhiannon up the beige staircase to their bedroom.

“Gotcha!” Capturing her around the waist, Clark hoisted Rhiannon into the air once they reached the landing and Rhiannon laughed as he carried her to the bedroom, mock-struggling against him as a deep, rumbling chuckle rolled up from Clark’s chest and he tossed her down onto the mattress, his broad frame heavy on top of her.

“Mmm…” Grasping her wrists, Clark slid them above Rhiannon’s head on the sheets, pouting his pink lips. “I’ve wanted to tie you up for so long, baby.”

Lifting her hips against him, Rhiannon chuckled. “You could’ve just asked, Clark.”

“Yeah, well…” Clark peeled off Rhiannon’s tank top, encouraging her to sit up before unclasping her bra and casting it aside. When it came to more experimental things in the bedroom, Clark was a bit trepidatious about approaching Rhiannon, not wanting to scare her off or make her uncomfortable. Plus, it wasn’t as though their sex life was boring by any means, so he didn’t typically feel the need to ask for anything Rhiannon didn’t already provide. 

Removing her leggings and panties, Clark retrieved the decorative box from under the bed. “Alright, spread ‘em, Rhi.” He smirked as he lifted the lid. 

Rhiannon stretched out her arms and legs as Clark rifled inside and extracted four long, red silk straps. But Rhiannon noticed something missing from the box’s contents. “Wait, where are the--” The words broke from her before Rhiannon remembered she wasn’t supposed to know what was inside and she bit her lip.

“What?” Clark blinked at her curiously.

“Oh...nothing.” Rhiannon moved an ankle toward the corner of the bed, cutting her emerald eyes away from him. 

Looking from Rhiannon’s face to the box, Clark narrowed his gaze. “No, what did you mean?”

“Well, um…” Sitting up, Rhiannon swallowed. “I never told you, but, before we...before we were together I was cleaning your room and I, well…” Making a face, Rhiannon shrugged apologetically. “I accidentally knocked that box open and saw inside, And, um, I thought there used to be, well, didn’t you have…” Rhiannon shifted awkwardly. “Like sex tapes? I think?”

“Oh…” Chuckling, Clark’s eyebrows shot up and his dark blue eyes rolled to the side. “Yeah...yeah, I did, but, um…” Rubbing the back of his neck, Clark sighed. “Didn’t feel right having ‘em around, you know. Once we got engaged and all. So I destroyed ‘em.” Lowering his arm, Clark raised a vast shoulder. Never watched much anyway. Well…” Clark’s hand stroked his face, attempting to hide a smirk. “Except for one, really. But anyway…”

Tilting her head, Rhiannon eyed Clark with a smile. “What was so special about that one, Clark?”

“Well, um…” Pink hue creeping up his neck, Rhiannon found his discomfort surprisingly endearing considering he was discussing sleeping with someone else. “It was...it was an older one. Me and a couple ladies, you know.” Clark rolled his eyes. “So there were parts with just the two of them that I liked. Otherwise I could never bring myself to watch the damn things. I don’t know why I ever made them. Guess when I was high and drunk they must’ve seemed like a good idea for some reason.” Holding up his palms in confusion, Clark shook his head.

Chuckling, Rhiannon nodded. “That makes sense.”

Replacing the box under the bed, Clark pulled the straps tight between his fists with a broad grin before starting at Rhiannon’s left ankle. As he tied the knots, he tickled up and down Rhiannon’s ivory leg before sneaking a finger between her skin and the silk. “Too tight?” 

“Nope.” Rhiannon smiled and Clark proceeded around the bed, the exceptionally long strips of fabric pinning Rhiannon to their gargantuan mattress.

Splayed like a starfish, Rhiannon observed immobile as Clark disrobed, deep blue eyes locked into her own as he revealed his firm chest and little belly, shrugging out of his linen shorts, cock half hard between his shapely legs.

“Hmm…” Fingers cascading down her outstretched arm, eyes studious and lower lip jutting, Clark considered Rhiannon. “Looks like I can do whatever I want to you now, Rhi.” 

Glancing up at him, Rhiannon grinned. “I guess you can.” 

Perching beside her on the bed, Clark traced her navel. “So many things…” He spoke it as a whisper, half to himself, cobalt eyes alighting over her body with a yearning sigh. Slowly Clark shifted until he was stretched out beside Rhiannon. Resting on his elbow, head on his palm, the other hand explored. Twisting his fingers through Rhiannon’s red tendrils. Caressing her face. Etching her collarbone. Massaging a breast, smiling as the pink nipple hardened at his touch. Flowing down her abdomen. Resting at the hood of her pussy before petting over the lips, patient, blinking, expression casual as Clark relaxed beside her.

Rhiannon grew slick. Clenched herself internally as her clit ached for friction, the delicate brushing of Clark’s fingertips over her smooth skin a breeze when her body demanded a hurricane. Hopelessly she tried raising her pelvis into his hand, but Clark easily maintained his distance, Rhiannon’s restricted position preventing her from getting far. 

Swiveling his body close, Rhiannon felt Clark’s erection nudge her hip as he held her head up with a wide palm, stormy blue eyes drilling into her before he fused their lips together. Clark’s tongue swept into her mouth with a familiarity that was somehow novel each time, fingers soothing over her scalp as their tongues twirls, all the while continuing the tender teasing between her thighs. 

When the first finger breached her slit, hardly even grazing the surface of her clit, Rhiannon was so wet and swollen she moaned into Clark’s mouth and tugged at her bonds, Clark smiling mischievously at her lips. Slipping in a second, Clark formed a V over her, refusing to apply direct pressure as his strong hand worked purposefully up and down past her clit, Rhiannon’s body begging as her hips rocked forward into his touch.

Breaking away, Clark’s lips brushed over her cheek and down to her neck, teeth scraping lightly before nipping at her earlobe as he made the first electrifying pass over her and Rhiannon’s muscles leapt in response.

“Mmm…” Clark purred, thumb rubbing her engorged clit as he twisted his wrist, three fingers sinking deep within her drenched pussy until Rhiannon’s neck arched and her breath caught. “Am I making you feel good, baby?”

“Yes.” Rhiannon breathed as Clark curled his fingers, massaging the clustered nerves and spinning his thumb, gradually bringing the two together within his massive grip. “Fuck...so good, Clark…

“Mmm, yeah, Rhi…” Biting her neck, Clark delighted in the chirp that interrupted her moans, licking over the mark made by his rounded teeth as Rhiannon rutted into his slippery fingers. “Fuck, I love making you cum so much.”

Nodding insistently, Rhiannon bore down onto his dexterous fingers. “ _ Yes! Fuck, Clark! You’re going to make me cum so hard! Fuck! Fuck!”  _

Clark rose, determined to watch Rhiannon’s face as she tightened around him and shrieked. As far as Clark was concerned, there was no more beautiful sight in the world. Fuck the ocean. Fuck sunsets. Keep your damn Grand Canyon in Arizona or wherever the hell. All Clark wanted to see was Rhiannon. Creamy skin bursting with a flowering pink flush, her emerald eyes fighting to focus on him, holding an expression so close to pain and yet soaked in boundless pleasure as they fluttered closed and snapped open again and again. Her elegant, plump lips gasping open. The way her little chin would tip up and down, throwing her head from side to side, inevitably ratting her hair in the back. No matter how many times he saw it, and, not to brag but at this point Clark figured he had her in triple digits at least, he never tired of Rhiannon’s lust laden expression and, Clark suspected, he never would.

Extracting his hand, Clark licked his fingers lasciviously, humming at Rhiannon’s delicious flavor before standing, strolling to the end of the bed, and kneeling. For a moment Rhiannon couldn’t comprehend what he was doing. Clark, firm arms folded and square chin resting on his wrists, seemed to be just...staring between her legs. Then Clark’s hands flowed up from her ankles, Clark slithering onto the mattress. Clamping around her hips, Clark sent his sturdy jaw forward and, without warning, devoured Rhiannon as though he deprived himself for months and she was the first indulgent treat on the menu.

“Oh...oh _ , fuck! Clark, yes!” _ Her thighs tried to squeeze toward his ears but were blocked, Rhiannon’s spine curving as a rolling shriek cracked out of her lungs. Clark smeared her over his chiseled features, moaning into her sensitive flesh until Rhiannon seized beneath him. 

Encasing her engorged clit with his soft pink lips, Clark once again penetrated Rhiannon with his big fingers, tamping mercilessly against her g-spot, oceanic eyes reveling in her undulating body above him and realizing that this was probably the first time her screaming wasn’t muffled by Rhiannon’s legs wrapped around his head as she repeatedly stumbled off the quaking cliffs of desire.

Clark came to his knees, wiping his face. Cock purple with need, he took it in hand and inched toward Rhiannon, swiping it up and down her sopping slit. The urge to go inside, to fuck her senseless, raged inside of him, but the smirking jester that lived in the corner of Clark’s devilishly desire-drenched mind told him otherwise. Clark kissed the wide head of his cock to Rhiannon’s clit, holding firm until her green eyes opened. Then, tipping his chin up with a challenging pout, he pushed forward against her and wiggled.  _ Hard. _

A tittering, thrashing cry left Rhiannon’s lungs and Clark giggled at her. Fucking  _ giggled _ , that evil bastard, as he smacked his hard cock down on the top of her pubis a few times, licking his lips in satisfaction. 

“Ohhh, babygirl…” Smearing up and down with tantalizing slowness, Clark zeroed in on her with those piercing sapphire eyes. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

Rhiannon nodded exuberantly. “Yes, Clark. Please.”

“Hmm…” Tracing her entrance with his tip, Clark stuck out his lower lip and tilted his head. “Why should I?”

“I…” At a loss, Rhiannon blinked up at him. “I...don’t you want to?”

Clark released a deep sigh, shrugging his expansive shoulders as he skipped his cock cruelly over her clit. “Maybe…” Clark crawled forward, all glittering blue eyes and rolling powerful limbs as he descended on top of her, grinding his thick cock into the heat between Rhiannon’s legs. Bearing his rounded teeth, when Clark spoke, his voice was a shadowy well of hidden promise. “ _ Convince me.” _

Shuddering, Rhiannon’s ample breasts rose and fell hastily against him as she stared into Clark’s unblinking cobalt gaze. “I want you to fuck me.”

Head ticking from side to side, Clark’s nose flared and the muscle in his sculpted jaw flashed. “Not.” He thrust his erection in between her wet folds. “Good.” Clark bore down with such force the bed creaked and, were he positioned a mere inch lower he would’ve struck inside of her. “ _ Enough.” _

Panting, Rhiannon’s brain scrambled. “I’ll...I’ll make you feel so good, Clark. I…” Rhiannon swallowed. “If you fuck me, you can cum in my pussy. Anything you want. I just want your big cock. Please, Clark.  _ Please!” _

Dark eyebrows shooting up, Clark licked his lips, pelvis swirling as he chuckled. “Mmm...that does sound good, Rhi…” Resting back on his knees, Clark positioned himself at her entrance, and penetrated Rhiannon with the first two inches of himself. “Like that?” Whispering, Clark scanned her face as Rhiannon’s mouth dropped open with a gasp. “Is that what you want baby? Hmm?”

“ _ Oh fuck, yes! Yes!” _ Rhiannon tried to drive herself down on his substantial cock, but her bonds, and Clark, wouldn’t allow it. “ _ Fuck, Clark! Please! More!” _

“Oh?” Finding it difficult to restrain his glee, Clark tried to keep a straight face as he lifted an eyebrow. “Like this maybe?” Barely inserting another inch, Rhiannon whined in protest and Clark giggled as he twirled his cock amidst her depths.

“ _ Clark!” _ Rhiannon yelled, throwing a restrained tantrum that only served to cinch the knots tighter. “ _ Just fuck me already!” _

Smirking, Clark shrugged. “If you say so, Rhi.” Clark clapped inside of her with one unceremonious stroke, laying atop Rhiannon with a groan and shoving his arm between them to race over her clit as he mashed their mouths together. 

Clark pounded into her vigorously and almost immediately Rhiannon’s body began to shake from the intense, unforeseen stimulation and she left his lips with a tremulous wail. 

“Is this what you wanted? Huh?  _ Huh? _ ” Clark barrelled into her, thumb at her clit and free hand twisting into Rhiannon’s damp red tendrils as he struck forward to bite her neck. “You wanted to get fucked hard tonight, didn’t you, babydoll? Yeah?  _ Huh?” _

“ _ Oh! Oh! Fuck! Fuck! Yes, Clark! Yes!” _ Hips slamming into him of their own volition, Rhiannon’s toes curled and cramped but she didn’t notice the pain as she constricted around his pummeling cock, Clark licking, nuzzling and biting over every inch of her he could reach.

“Mmm...fuck yeah, baby, cum on my cock!” Clark growled, snatching her hip and dragging Rhiannon over himself for additional traction as he spun over her clit until her screams went silent. “ _ Fuck, I love making you cum! Yes! Fuck, Rhiannon! Cum for me! Cum for me!” _

Wordless and seizing, Rhiannon’s limbs stretched the fabric taught and her mouth hung open as Clark hammered her into the mattress, room hazy and sounds fading as her body squeezed him violently.

“Mmm... _ fuck… _ ” Panting, Clark collapsed on top of her, his sizable hands unable to decide where to touch Rhiannon as he began frenetically humping, fingers leaping from her face, her breasts, her hips as vulnerable whimpers roiled in his chest and his toes kicked at the sheets.

“ _ Fuck, Rhi! I’m gonna cum! Fuck! Fuck!” _ In the end, Clark slithered his arms beneath her shoulders, making a cocoon over the top of her head and resting his cheek to Rhiannon’s turned face. Clark rapidly pulsed, high, huffing moans leaving his built chest until he flexed, eyes clenched and teeth exposed in an amorous grimace. A melodic, tinkling whine ripped from Clark’s throat as his body jerked forward, left eye twitching and crisp jaw hanging while he filled Rhiannon with throbs of hot cum.

Deflating, Clark gulped air, lips moving lazily over Rhiannon’s salty skin as he lowered his arms, trying to push himself up and failing, settling for giving Rhiannon’s arm a weary pat. “ _ Fuck _ , baby…” Clark exhaled, eyes remaining closed. “So good…”

Nodding beneath him, Rhiannon touched a kiss to the spot where Clark’s jaw met his neck as she caught her breath.

Clark eventually gathered himself enough to get off the bed and went to Rhiannon’s left wrist to let her down. Pausing halfway through the first knot, Clark glanced down at her with a smirk. “You know it’s mighty tempting to leave you trussed up like this, Rhi.” Trailing a finger down her forearm, Clark held his tongue between his teeth.

“You do that…” Rhiannon lifted a warning eyebrow. “And you’ll be the one who has to finish that novel of mine before the publisher wants to see it.”

Balking, Clark shook his head and untied the silk. “Oh hell no.” Rhiannon laughed, pumping circulation back into her wrists once free and snuggling up against Clark’s tall frame, both grateful to have a marriage based on trust, help, and love.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! If you enjoyed this story, please leave a comment or come say hi on tumblr at fandomtransmandom. I also take requests!


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